


Wedding Smashers

by Stella Wind (stellawind)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Crack, F/F, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, weddings gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellawind/pseuds/Stella%20Wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison cancelled their first wedding date. </p><p>And by the time they canceled their third wedding, it was almost a running joke. Except for Lydia's burned Dior dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Smashers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omfg_otp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omfg_otp/gifts).



> Thanks to Illiad_And_Oddity for wrangling grammar.

Allison cancelled their first wedding date.

Lydia only found out when the caterers called to confirm their refund (minus the deposit). She’d confirmed it only after a minute to think, and went back to shouting at Malia right after, as they were probably all going to die unless they found the book.

Honestly, at the time, she was more relieved than upset. Beacon Hills had been the epicenter of yet another round of strange deaths, and having the wedding that month didn’t seem possible when Lydia could barely keep up writing her dissertation, let alone handling all the mounting minutiae.

The second time, it had been a joint decision, and had made sense with Allison in the hospital only a week before their date.

The third time, the shop where their dresses had been stored was burned down. Lydia hadn’t quite had a screaming fit at that, but it had been a close thing. It had been a Dior dress.

After that, the others started making jokes, and not just Stiles.

***

“Let’s not invite any them,” she told Allison in the car, after they had gotten far enough away from wolfy ears. “We should elope to Vegas, get our marriage certificate, and never tell them any details.”

“I’d rather go Gretna Green, in Scotland,” Allison said, as she was a strange woman, with a not so hidden fondness for Regency romances. This oddity had developed in their freshman year of college. Their dorm room had been littered with books by Jane Austen, Byron, and Sir Walter Scott. Eventually, Allison had given in and gotten a double major in wildlife management and English lit.

“No,” Lydia said. Her life was not going to become a Georgette Hayer novel. Or _Pride and Prejudice and Werewolves_.

“Paris? A spring wedding in the city of lights?”

“Late May, I think,” Lydia conceded. “Not until I’ve defended my dissertation.”

Allison hummed happily the whole drive back to their apartment.

And that was the semester Lydia discovered that nearly the entire Department of Mathematical Sciences were vampires. Vampires in a doomsday cult, who had provided her with her full ride scholarship because of her connection with the damn tree stump.

It had been very therapeutic to decapitate the vampires. And they still didn’t get married.

***

“Have you checked twitter?” Lydia asked one evening in December as she came with a bag of groceries, with the brioche from the bakery Allison adored balanced on top of the pile.

Allison looked up from her laptop, were she had been openly lusting over the recurve bow, the same one which she had been making large hints about for over a month. Lydia wasn’t quite sure why Allison felt the need to beat her over the head with the hints. Maybe it was the lack of a big and suspicious box. But the last time Lydia had bought her a weapon as a gift, Allison had busted it out two weeks before her birthday, when the omega (who turned out to be a very nice woman between packs) had passed through town. The bow was safely in Derek’s garage and would remain there until the pack had Christmas Eve together.

Lydia finished putting the food on the counter, raised an eyebrow, and waited for Allison to open a new tab. A range of emotions passed over Allison’s face, as she read and decoded Scott’s tweets to Stiles and Kira.

“Is he going on a date with Isaac?” she finally asked.

“Yes. Derek has been bitching about it to me for the last half hour.”

As if on cue, her phone pinged again.

“It’s Derek. Send help,” she read out. “Isaac is asking me which shirt he should wear.”

“Oh my god,” Allison said, choking slightly. “He and Scott are going to be perfect of each other.”

“Not as perfect as us,” Lydia said lightly.

“Of course not!” Allison said, darted in for a kiss, and began to make salad for dinner. With the light of schadenfreude dancing in her eyes, Lydia thought Allison really meant that Scott and Isaac would be perfect for them to watch and snicker at.

As she sliced the tomatoes and diced the cucumbers, she contemplated the new relationship. They would move fast, probably. Scott’s lease would be up in less than six months, and Isaac would probably float over to live with him by then. For all that he owned a house, Isaac had never used the house he’d grown up in for anything other than storage. He tended to bounce from home to home in the pack, helping out with rent and bills while he stayed, and very careful not stay overly long.

“We need to get married,” she told Allison over dinner. “I refuse for both of your exes to get married before us.”

Allison snorted into her soup. “I don’t think one date would lead to that.”

“They could go to Vegas,” Lydia muttered. Her standards had slipped, and she’d looked up wedding packages multiple times. They were a few very nice ones for under $3000, and even some of the lower end ones looked very appealing. She frowned, thinking a little harder about Isaac’s penchant for quick decisions (see becoming a werewolf), and Scott’s own impulsiveness, and made sure to text Derek: _Don’t let them do a road trip to Vegas. Or San Francisco._

A second later, he texted back: _??? I don’t get you. I think they’re going to the movies_.

“Movies,” she told Allison, putting the phone down as Allison made a pointed gesture encompassing the food, and their admittedly lax agreement not to text during meals. “I think our first date was more romantic.”

Allison smiled warmly. “It was.”

Their first date had been a brunch at a little French place they’d walked two miles to from campus. Allison had been enraptured, and had spent a good ten minutes talking to the owner in French. Walking back, she and Lydia had plotted out a vacation they had taken that summer to the Riviera. Lydia had also spent the entire walk back plotting out her new life plan, with a perfect slot for Allison to slide into.

A perfect life plan which was regularly torn to pieces by werewolves, and still had yet to see the marriage she had planned for to come to fruition. Even if she and Allison were married in all but name.

“Is your dad doing anything tomorrow?”

“I think he was talking about going fishing with the sheriff.”

Retirement suited Chris. He’d taken up a myriad of old man hobbies, which Lydia regularly encouraged with gifts and texts about events like chess-in-the-park Saturdays. It kept him close to Beacon Hills, which kept Allison happy, and it kept him close enough to help when something popped up, which kept Allison safe. And Lydia, but Allison was the one who tended to get hurt first. It also gave Lydia a supply of knitted sweaters she had to wear in public regularly, but sacrifices had to be made.

“It’ll be Thursday, so Melissa has her off day too. My mother can take a long lunch.”

“Honey? What are you thinking?”

Lydia met Allison’s wide eyes, and smiled. Allison knew, she could tell by the she was barely breathing, and the soft smile edged with disbelief.

“We’re going to get married tomorrow. Courthouse wedding. Nothing like we dreamed, but–”

“I’ll take it.”

Lydia beamed.

***

She waited until the next morning to send out the mass text, advising the pack and a few others to meet them at the courthouse at one. She then called Derek, and made him give Allison the next week off, as his wedding gift to them. He agreed, but not after complaining about something involving the mating habits of some bird or another needed to be documented. She compromised by telling him that she and Allison could go for a few hikes on their not-really honeymoon.

“Just try to stay away from the preserve trails when you get naked,” Derek begged, and then hung up. Lydia didn’t know why he sounded so put upon. It wasn’t like he’d caught them except for that one time, and had been all the spell’s fault anyways. And it was December, and a little chilly for that.

The real issue was figuring out what to wear to the courthouse. Allison had gravitated to some flowing cream dress, frothy with lace, that Lydia vaguely recognized from her undergraduate years. It was well suited enough to wedding, but Lydia’s own wardrobe was bare of any such easy choices, with her pant suits looking to business like, her dress too dark or too vampish, and her comfy clothes complete unsuitable.

When she fond herself contemplating the plaid skirt she’d worn when she’d met Allison and declared her new best friend, she decided that enough was enough. Picking out a long sensible grey wool skirt that she mostly wore in winter when it was too cold, a rather low cut camisole, and a ecru cardigan with mother of pearl buttons that Chris had knitted, she dressed. She did her hair up in a crown braid, and decided the look wasn’t as maiden aunt or grandmotherly as she had feared, and topped it off with Coach boots.

“It’s a good look,” Allison said, when she caught Lydia fiddling with skirt.

“I’m missing the Dior dress,” Lydia admitted. “I had my heart set on it.”

“I think a burned wedding dress was the least of our problems that month. And we got our money back,” Allison soothed, rubbing her shoulders.

“It would have been two seasons out of date,” Lydia said, nodding firmly. Then, inspired, she checked over Allison, looking for anything in her outfit that would date their wedding photos too terribly when they looked at them in a decade or two. In the end, she picked out the jewelry for both of them – which was minimal – and declared herself satisfied with the timeless look they had achieved.

Allison let her, with an air of amused indulgence. Lydia rewarded her patience, and they were nearly late to their own wedding.

***

Actually, they _were_ late to their own wedding.

But Lydia and Allison made it to the courthouse with time to spare, and it was only the dozens of pictures everyone wanted to take that kept them from hitting it on the dot. The courthouse, with its art deco architecture, and Christmas decorations proved to be the perfect setting, and Lydia planned to frame the picture Kira had taken. It was a candid, with Allison and Lydia looking at each other, the big Christmas tree off to the side, and swirling frieze behind Allison, which made her look almost ethereal with Lydia anchored to Earth by the tree.

Danny also took several nice pictures, and lead them to his office to arrange for the marriage license. They then filed out to the rotunda, where Danny began the ceremony.

Lydia was blinking back as she recited her vows, and she knew that if looked anywhere other than Allison, she probably would start crying. In what few glimpses she had seen, when she could bare to wrench her attention away from Allison, the faces of her friends and family had been enough to break and remake her heart.

“Do you, Allison, take Lydia–“

There was a crashing nose, and lovely stained glass Melissa had snapped several pictures of them against flew into glittering shards.

A long, scaly body careened into the rotunda, and Lydia caught a glimpse of fangs as long her forearm and wings wide enough to block out the sun.

“A fucking dragon. Are you _kidding_ me?” she demanded to world at large.

Derek, Scott, and Malia had already charged it, and Braeden had brought her guns through the courthouse security. Somehow. The gunshots would be fun to explain away, let alone the ruined window.

“I’m done with this,” she told Allison.

Allison just shook her head, looking like she wanted to laugh.

“Right then,” Lydia said, and seized Danny from behind an overstuffed arm chair and swung him back to stand in front of her and Allison.

“What?” he asked, still boggling at the dragon.

“Finish this,” she told him.

He finally looked at her, incredulous.

“Finish the ceremony,” she said, and let the hint of a banshee’s scream sink into her voice.

“I do,” Allison said quickly.

“And do you take Allison to be your wife?” he asked Lydia.

“Of course I do,” Lydia said, tossing her head.

“Right then. Married, wife and wife. Now do something about the dragon!” Danny yelled, and ducked back to the chair he had taken refuge behind.

Lydia grabbed Allison before she could run over to help, and kissed her soundly.

Allison kissed back fervently, and then broke it, running to the fight, Lydia only a step behind her.

They missed their reservations at the restaurant, but on the other hand, the dragon had actually wanted to kidnap Stiles, so it was a win in Lydia’s mind. She was even inclined to forgive him, when she and Allison stumbled home at one in the morning, soot covered. It was now Christmas Eve, after all.

She took a brief shower, and curled up with Allison under the covers. Linking their left hands together, she felt their rings clink together.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” she whispered.

“Best present ever,” Allison said, nuzzling. She paused, and then in a slightly more concerned tone asked, “This isn’t your Christmas present to me, right?”

Lydia smiled. Allison must really want that bow.

“Lydia?”

“Hush, love. Go to sleep and dream of sugar plums, fairies, and gingerbread.”

Allison made grumbling noise, but her breath dropped into an even pace not even five minutes later, and Lydia followed her into sleep, the world quite around them, not even a mouse stirring.


End file.
